That Stupid Blind Heart of Mine
by Fuhrmanizer
Summary: Rosewood's a place where you make friends and enemies. Spencer Hastings and Toby Cavanaugh were always enemies and would always be that way. No one could have seen the two of them meeting and falling in love online, not even them. Why? It's easy. They don't know who's really on the other side of the screen. AU.
1. When Hanna Marin Happens

**A/N: It's been so long since I've written something on FF that it feels almost weird now. I'm used to writing things on Tumblr now, truth be told. But, for those of you who don't know me, I'm Emily, I'm blonde, and I draw 13's on my right hand. I'm currently on spring break, and since I'm outside on the beach and have nothing to do, since it's too cold to get in the water, I figured I'd work on this, especially since I was stricken with the idea after listening to, of all things—Starlight, by Taylor Swift. This is an AU story; there's your warning. If you have any questions, leave them in the pretty little review I know you're going to leave me after. Enjoy!**

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Emily Fields and I are polar opposites of each other, despite what anyone may say.

Emily is one of those girls that can stay naturally tan year round, no sun necessary; I have to spend hours out under the baking sun in order to just begin on getting rid of the luminous white glow on my own skin. Emily could get run over by a transfer truck and still have a radiance equivalent to the sun's; even after much time spent on doing my hair and makeup, I look like an extra who walked off the set of _The Walking Dead_. Emily thinks something is a bad idea? Easy; I think it's a perfectly good idea and that nothing bad could ever possibly derive from it. Emily does something she's never done before and is absolutely perfect at it; it always takes me several rounds of trial and error before I can get it ideal. Emily says one thing, I do another.

I'm sure that in Emily's eyes, all of those comparisons are either reversed or have a different spin on them. Of course they would; we _are_ on totally different sides of the spectrum. However, there's one comparison in the entire sea of them that we can both agree on.

Emily and Toby Cavanaugh are quite the dynamic duo, and Toby and I are absolute mortal enemies.

It's always been that way. Toby and I literally hate each other with a passion that burns so bright, it could blind someone. All other feuds in history can't even hold a candle to the immense hatred we have for each other. Emily, however, thinks Toby is some kind of saint. The two of them had been fairly good friends for some time now; ever since they were assigned as each other's lab partner, they formed a bond that was pretty much unbreakable. That didn't stop me from hating him any.

Toby and I were in the sixth grade when we realized that we'd be spending all of our time spitting in the direction of the other and using their name as the most offending curse word in the book. We're both perfectionists, so we want something done how it's pictured in our mind and no other way. The two of us were partners in something—pretty sure it was English, and we both had different versions of how our project should be done. Toby was the one who messed everything up, of course, and I remember throwing my pencil down and yelling at him. The yelling began to escalate from both sides of the battle field. Everything ended up with Toby and I in a very…_promising_ position, ready to rip each other's vocal cords out. We've hated each other ever since.

Emily thinks our little feud is a bit outlived and overrated; she thinks the two of us should just wave our white flags and write our own version of the Treaty of Versailles. I laugh in her face. Toby and I will die enemies; I'm even requesting my headstone to say _'Suck it, Cavanaugh.'_

Maybe I'm exaggerating on the last bit, but I wouldn't put it past us. The amount of hatred we have for each other is _that_ high.

So when I have to walk right past the devil himself, I make a humongous deal about it. When I pass by him, I make sure to bump into his shoulder, shooting him a death glare when his head whips up to see who it is. Our eyes connect for a nanosecond, before I snarl and turn back around. Emily rolls her eyes, her fingers wrapping themselves around my arm and yanking me forward.

"What the hell was that, Spence?" Emily hisses.

"When you see an opportunity, you take it," I explain, as we turn and make our way towards the ladies room, where Hanna and Aria are surely awaiting us. Emily, however, shakes her head in disapproval.

"I think that you're just trying to pick a fight with him. I told you, he's just as ready for this…_petty_ _disagreement_ to be over as I am," she explains, picking and choosing her words carefully when describing the kind of fight. Although, I'd have to say that calling it a petty disagreement is an understatement. It's more like World War III.

"Em, this little petty disagreement doesn't really involve you; and besides, I highly doubt Toby Cavanaugh is over this. Just last week, he almost ran me over. And he could see me clear as day," I protest. I wasn't making it up; I was still somewhat emotionally traumatized by that. Emily doesn't say anything; instead she holds the door to the girl's room open and lets me go in front of her.

"Still doesn't change the fact that some of us want this to be over," Emily mumbles under her breath. I pretend as though I don't hear her little comment, and walk happily into the confinements of the bathroom. Hanna and Aria are sure enough inside, waiting for the two of us. It seems as though Hanna's repainting her nails, and Aria's giving her a look that I'm sure matches my confused one.

Aria looks up and sees the two of us, smiling happily. "Oh, hey guys." Hanna's response is different.

"About time you two got here." Aria nudges her sharply with her elbow, giving her a glare. Hanna shrugs. "What? We've been in here for fifteen minutes; I've had time to paint my nails a lovely shade of Tangerine Tango," she says, flashing her hands in front of us. The painfully bright orange nail polish gleams back up at us, and Emily and I nod out of habit. Better to just agree with Hanna than to try and argue.

"Sorry about that, Spencer had to go out of our way and make sure that Toby was aware of her presence and that their dispute is very much alive," Emily says, shooting a glare over in my direction. Aria gives me a look similar to the one she just gave Hanna, and Hanna rolls her eyes.

"Dear god, are you two still on that _'I-hate-Spencer-I-hate-Toby-let's-make-the-other-s uffer-along-with-the-rest-of-Rosewood-in-the-proce ss_' business?" Hanna grumbles. "Get in a cage and fight to the death, make out, do something productive with all that hatred. I hear angry sex is the best kind," she says flirtatiously, winking in my direction.

"Oh, god, I think I'm gonna be sick," I say, putting my hand over my mouth as I try to erase the image of myself having sex with Toby Cavanaugh, of all people.

"Okay, you two, enough," Aria regulates, stepping up before Hanna plants any more demon visions in my mind or I wring her throat because of it. "Spence, are you still covering for me this afternoon?" she asks, and I give her a little salute.

Aria has, oddly enough, managed to sustain a rather stable relationship with none other than good old Ezra Fitz. Personally, I think she's barking mad to keep on going full throttle, especially with her parents in the know about it and despising the idea, but it's her relationship. Plus, she and Ezra make a cute couple, so I guess it all works out in the end. She smiles. "Thanks, you're a life saver. And here," she says, rummaging in her life-size bag and pulling out a twenty, shoving it down into my hand. "For being my alibi. I figured you might like it better if you were holed up with McDreamy and McSteamy."

"This is why you're my best friend," I say, giving her a hug. "Hope you two have fun tonight."

"Tonight? Where are you two lovebirds going?" Hanna asks, rejoining the world after admiring her freshly done manicure.

"If you were listening earlier, you would know," Aria says, as though she's talking to a five year old. "Ezra and I are going out to eat at this really fancy restaurant I've been itching to go eat at for quite some time."

"That's awe-" the bell cuts Hanna off loudly, and rather annoyingly, as well. "Well, we're off to another hour of torture, this time in the form of Chemistry," she groans, pushing her way towards the door. "See you guys at lunch?"

We all nod, making our way out of the girl's room. Lurking in the corners, waiting on who has to be Emily, stands Toby Cavanaugh. His eyes settle on me, his face turning up in a distasteful snarl. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Hanna mouth what looks a whole lot like '_angry sex'_ with an extremely happy look on her face. She then flounces off in the direction of her Chemistry class.

"Hey Emily," Toby says, smiling when he sees her. I scoff, rolling my eyes at the sound of his voice. He then shoots me an ugly look, his eyes blue slits. "_You_."

"It," I respond, crossing my arms over my chest as I refer to him in the best way I can without getting myself into any sort of trouble. "Why are you here?"

"Em and I have French together. The real question, I think, is why are _you_ here?"

"Am I not allowed to do as I please?"

"This isn't Hastings world, so no, I guess not."

"Whatever."

"Whatever!"

"I hate you."

"Hate you more," Toby says sourly, before Emily forces his arm to link with hers and drags him off in the direction of their French class. I toss my hair over my shoulder, making my way towards one of the trillion AP classes I decided would be a good idea on taking.

. . .

Study hall is the one time during the day that I don't feel like I'm carrying the weight of the world on my shoulders. I can sit down and take a second to breathe, before making my load a little less heavy. Work on a paper, study for some big test, I manage to make all of my study halls unlike most kids in here. They spend their time gossiping in the far corners of the room about the rumors that they listen to and furthermore, believe, or throwing those annoying little paper balls at each other. It makes me feel like we've downgraded back to the third grade.

I pull my laptop out of my bag; it seems like a good idea to check up on the courses Hollis offers and see what's been added to the list. I was expecting to have to finish a paper, but all things happen for a reason. I guess Mr. Garland doesn't want that paper as soon as he did last week. Sighing, I open it and my home screen pulls up.

The bookmarked page I have, dedicated to the list of courses offered on the Hollis website, gets pulled up, and I stare at it blindly. It's the same things, except this time, the words are blurred. This past week has absolutely dragged, no wonder I'm about to be reduced to tears by a simple list of college courses. Usually I find some sort of comfort in looking at lists of college courses; it reminds me that there's a future outside of little old Rosewood and all of the bullshit that accompanies it.

There's something up in the tabs of the browser; some chat room that Hanna must have been on when she had her greedy little paws on my laptop. That's what Hanna likes to do when she gets a hold of any of our computers. She gets on these insane chat rooms and talks to strangers on our laptops because apparently, the Internet at her house _'is so horrific, it makes those old TVs that have nothing but static on them look like they're crystal clear'_. I highly doubt an old TV has anything to do with Internet service, but it's Hanna.

I click on the chat room tab by accident, instead of the little _'x'_ by the tab to close out of it. Hanna's sure enough, signed onto some chat room, and I can see her stupid username glowing in a corner of the screen. My guess is that Aria created the name for her, because it's nothing that Hanna would ever be caught going by. '_Shopaholic_Grll1105_' is illuminated in an all-too cheerful bubblegum pink, flashing underneath one other name on the list. Hanna has chat room buddies.

I'm wondering what possessed her when she even got the idea to get on one of these chat rooms, because I'm pretty sure that goes against the guidebook on how to be Hanna Marin. I sigh, figuring that it's safer to go ahead and close out before Shopaholic_Grll1105 kills me with her Tangerine Tango-manicured hands.

That is, before the other person in the room sends a message, making its presence known with a faint ding. I squint my eyes in order to read the message. _"Are you from Rosewood?"_ is the question asked by someone that's going by without a name. They're just a guest. There's a bunch of warning signs that are flashing in front of me but my fingers have a brain of their own.

_**Yes, why?**_

The reply is almost instantaneous.

_Well, that's what it says under your info. And I'm from Rosewood too, so talking to a familiar face never hurts. _Info? Like information? You can have something with your information on these chat rooms? Dear god, what else am I going to learn about Hanna; does she secretly run some kind of support group for the mentally insane as well?

I poise my fingers over the keyboard, thinking about what I should say. There's barely five minutes left in study hall, and then it's off to lunch. I shake my head, quickly typing in a response. _**It'd be nice to talk to a somewhat familiar face too. Email me; I won't be able to get on after this. **_I hit enter after typing in the private email I use for non-school related things, and then close out of the chat room.

God, what has Hanna started?

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**Well, this is the end of the first chapter. Like I said, leave a pretty little review or Hanna will come in your room while you're asleep and paint your nails Tangerine Tango. And hack your laptop and get on random chat rooms. ;) If you have questions, leave them in the review, PM me, or message me on Tumblr! xo **


	2. Just One of Spencer's New Little Buddies

**A/N: Well, the feedback I got last chapter was really, really awesome. You guys are amazing, and I'm so happy you all are into it. This story's like my baby and I love it, and I love the fact you guys are so supportive and are enjoying it. I won't keep you waiting—thanks to the girls who were playing Picture to Burn on their phones earlier and I heard it up from my balcony where I write, here's chapter two. :)**

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Lunch is an interesting affair, especially when Hanna comes prancing towards our table, a happy smile splashed on her face. I give her a look as she sits down, which she immediately takes offense to. "What the hell crawled up your ass?" she retorts.

I roll my eyes. "Well, let's start with the realization that I had during study hall about one of my best friends and her addiction to chat rooms," I say, making sure the last few words come out as sarcastically as I intended. Hanna snorts, dismissing it with the wave of her hand; the Tangerine Tango nails still glowing like floodlights.

"Oh come on, it's just a little guilty pleasure," she explains as she takes the seat in front of me. "Don't you just love the mystery of it? Talking to people who will never know who you really are, making friends with people that they might say they are but really aren't; it's like a really good soap opera."

"Hanna, that's how most girls get kidnapped. Surely you've seen the stories," I drawl, trying to knock some sense into her head verbally before I have to do it physically. "And besides, most things you just said didn't do anything to prove your point. There's no mystery, because apparently you have this little anonymity buster called '_info_'." I remember what the Rosewood stranger who I'd talked to for all of seven seconds told me about how he'd seen Hanna's info and was able to tell she was from Rosewood. I'm still not too familiar with the magical world of chat rooms, and I don't plan on getting that familiar any time soon.

"That's if you choose to enable it," Hanna protests in a whiny voice, taking a bite of her apple.

"And you chose to!?"

"Whoa guys, calm down," Aria says as she slides into the seat beside mine. "What are we going on about now? Is this the whole…you know, Toby thing?"

"I still think you guys should just have that angry sex and move on," Hanna interjects nonchalantly as she studies her blinding nails.

"Hanna!" I cry out, enraged that she'd suggest such a thing. Aria immediately throws her hands out across the table, one hand pinning me back in my seat and the other hovering near Hanna, ready to push her back if needed. "Okay short stuff, you heard her! I have rights."

Hanna sighs. "She's just in a mood because I was chatting again and accidentally forgot to close out," she explains, sounding more calm and knowledgeable than she usually is. Aria clucks her tongue. "Plus, you know the whole her and Toby hooking up thing is a good idea." Aria may be tiny, but she's strong enough to keep me from lunging across the table at Hanna.

"You were chatting again? Seriously, Han, this is the fifteenth time this week? I've had to close out of at least seven chat rooms in the past three days, and that's because you told me you were researching something for a class." Then, under her breath, Aria mumbles, "Should have called bullshit on that when it came out of her mouth." I nod, even though Hanna didn't hear the comment.

"Alright, whatever, I'll get off of the chat rooms, I'll go join a group that specializes with a harmless habit that your friends think is the beginning of your downward spiral, I'll get on pills or something. Does that help you sleep better at night?" Hanna snaps, looking up at the two of us. Aria and I smile satisfied, nodding. "Okay then, it's settled."

"What's settled?" Emily asks, coming up behind Hanna and sitting down next to her. She looks back and forth between all of us, a confused look plastered on her face. Hanna rolls her eyes; it's obvious that she'll play it up with Emily since the two of them are extremely close.

"These two are jumping down my throat for getting on another chat room," Hanna explains. Emily frowns in her direction. Hanna immediately recoils, a bewildered look on her face. "Oh, so you're going to side with them now?"

"Well, you are sort of mad and crazy about it," Emily says slowly. Hanna pouts, taking another loud bite of her apple as Emily's head whips to face Aria and I. "Wait, why did the chat room intervention happen now?"

I raise my hand. "Hanna was on my laptop last night, I guess, while I was in the shower before our movie night, and she left the window up. Then, one of her little buddies decided to strike up a conversation with me as well, so the intervention was happening now or we were just going to dump all of her forms of technology in the lake after school," I say. Hanna's suddenly interested in the conversation, and she leans forward. She's got a rather ludicrous grin spreading across her face.

"One of my little buddies?" Hanna asks, clearly entertained by the thought of all this. I shrink back in my seat a little, the heat, from what I'm sure is a growing blush on my face, rising. "Which little buddy? _Spencer Hastings, did you send someone nudes?"_ she shrieks, and I'm immediately kicked out of my embarrassment.

"_God_! No, Hanna; does your mind stay permanently in the gutter or what?" I shake my head, pushing my hair back out of my face. The three other girls are all leaned forward, identical eager grins on their faces, except for Hanna's slightly disappointed undertone in hers. "I didn't send anyone nudes, I was in study hall. I don't know which one, they were under anonymous guest, and they clearly knew you were from Rosewood because of your _info_," I say, quoting the stranger.

"Well what happened from there?" Hanna quips, resting her head on her propped up fist. She actually seems intrigued by all of this, which comes as a bit of a shock. It takes a lot to really and truly captivate Hanna and her short attention span.

"We sent each other like two messages apiece. I gave them my email, so maybe we'll hear back from them," I shrug. I'm trying to play the whole affair off, because really, there's not much to it. It's a simple exchange of my email, it isn't like me and this person planned some sort of government heist. Apparently, to Aria, Emily, and especially Hanna, that would be the equivalent.

"Oh my god!"

"Spence!"

"That's so cute!"

Their respective squeals all come out at the same time, and I groan. "You guys, it's not like we're going to connect in magical ways and become a couple; for god's sake, I don't even know if they're a boy or a girl." The other girls almost immediately shake off any of my doubts about this and are hell-bent on making sure it's drilled into my brain that it's some extremely cute guy on the other end.

Clearly, they're not aware of the fact that this is Rosewood, not some Nicholas Sparks novel. Nothing that spectacular or picturesque ever happens here; we're lucky if we even get rainbows after thunderstorms.

**. . .**

I stumble inside my room, kicking my heels off within two steps in the interior. The hair tie on my wrist is almost instantly up in my hair, holding the locks back in a ponytail. A sigh escapes my lips; _the beauty of being in high school_, I internally mutter to myself. As I throw my bag into the corner of my room, my laptop emerges out of it and is placed on my bed, opened and turning on. I then begin to stroll around my room, changing out of the extremely itchy jacket I'd been in all day. Fashion comes with its price.

It hasn't been on for more than fifteen seconds when the notification of a new email in my inbox begins going off; a tiny dinging noise. I backtrack through the room, sitting down on the edge of my bed. The laptop is moved closer to me, as I click on the little mail icon. Almost instantaneously, the new email pops up onto my screen.

**SUBJECT: **_**Shopaholic_Grll1105?**_

_I'm guessing that this is you, according to the email address you gave me. It's me, the anonymous guest you talked to earlier on today in the chat room. If it isn't…well…ignore this email. I'm just one of those regular spammers that send you junk mail in hopes that you'll click on and retract the virus secretly attached._

I can't help but to laugh to myself, as my fingers position themselves over the keys to type in a response.

**SUBJECT: **_**re: Shopaholic_Grll1105?**_

_Congratulations, you found me. Although I'm really hoping that you were kidding about the whole secretly-attached computer virus thing; I don't think my computer would be able to handle it. I suppose if that were the case, however, we'd just have to wait and see if it recovered from the virus. You'd be invited, of course, to watch it fight to survive._

I press the send button, and lean back into my pillows as I wait for a response for just a little bit. I'm beginning to wonder if Hanna's chat room addiction has started some kind of domino effect. I get on, meet a stranger, and now I'm getting the sense that this person and I are already friends. I shake my head, even though there's no one around to see it. Almost five minutes later, after retracting from drifting off into space and watching my ceiling fan go around in circles, the computer makes another noise. Sure enough, there's a response.

**SUBJECT: **_**re: re: Shopaholic_Grll1105?**_

_Well, I'd most definitely take you up on that offer. You know, it's never polite to let a stranger assume your name. I'm having a moral dilemma over here, trying to figure out what name I should call you and what would sound less cynical. All I'm picturing is a Juliet, and that may or may not be because I just reread the play for the seventeenth time…_

Juliet. To my little chat room buddy, they think of me as a Juliet and not a Spencer. If Hanna were here, she'd be doubled over in laughter, her face a pleasant shade of purple. I can even hear her voice in my mind, clear as a church bell—"_Juliet? Juliet? What is this, the 2013 remake of Shakespeare? This is better than cable; you'd better forward me all of the emails! Better yet, can I come live with you so I have twenty-four hour access to 'Spencer Capulet and the Mystery Montague?' _Ohmy god!" I shake my head; I don't need a Hanna inside of my head as well as the one in the real world.

I feel like this is one of those growing, overly cliché romance movies that you've seen a thousand times in the cinema, but it just comes along with a different cast, a different name, and a different Hollywood hunk that everyone always swoons over when they have their shirtless scene. What if this was a girl?! Dear god!

I can feel the blood racing through my veins, as I try to sort out what I should say back. The whole name thing has completely thrown me off kilter, because I haven't yet decided if I want to give up my identity or not. Hanna is right in a way; right now, this stranger and I are faceless and nameless. All we know about the other is that we're both from Rosewood, and that whoever's on the other end has taken me for a girl, thanks to Hanna's username. So I wring my hands out, and quickly type out a response that makes a little bit of sense.

**SUBJECT: **_**re: re: re: Shopaholic_Grll1105?**_

_Picture me as a Juliet then. I'll just be waiting for you to appear right below my balcony, that is, if you're Romeo. If not, then close out of this email before the virus I attached makes its way to your hard drive._

It takes a bit of nerve, but I finally press send. I'm getting all in a tizzy over an email. We were right; this whole chat room business affects your brain and afterwards, you'd probably need therapy and a serious support group to get through recovery. My phone buzzes next to me, and I pick it up, answering the call that's coming in.

"Hello?" I ask, sinking back into my pillows.

"Spencer?" Emily's voice leaks through the other end, sounding a little worried. "Please tell me you're not busy," she pleads.

"Um, no, I was just going to spend the night here watching movies so Aria would have an alibi," I say slowly. "Why do you ask?"

"Do you think you could meet me at the Apple Rose Grille in about fifteen? I completely bombed one of my French quizzes, and my mom said that I have to stick with it for the semester before I can drop it. Would you give me a crash course in French so I can at least past this upcoming test?" she begs. I sigh, but I know that I can't decline. It's Emily. She sounds like she's about to burst into tears on the other end for some odd reason, which isn't much like Emily.

"Alright, I'll be there in fifteen."

"You're the best. Spencer!" Emily chirps, mostly out of relief. "Hey, one of my classmates needs a little help as well, would you mind tackling two birds with one stone?"

"Sure, why not? The more the merrier."

I had a feeling though, when I hung up with Emily and got in the car to head over to the Apple Rose Grille, I was going to be eating those words very, very shortly.

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**Well, that was that chapter! I hope that satisfied you until I can update next; it shouldn't be too long. You leave a review, I read your review and more than likely thank you a thousand times over for it, and then bam! **_**New chapter**_**. In other words, review or I'll send you spam emails with viruses in them and not give you a heads up. Just kidding, guys, goodness! But not really. xo**


	3. Three is Most Definitely a Crowd

**A/N: You guys are just the best. **_**Ever**_**. That's all I'm gonna say about that. (Thanks for your beautiful reviews. I appreciate them so much.) Some of you put in your reviews that you clearly know who will be accompanying Emily in hers and Spencer's French tutoring session, but don't think just because you know that you know everything. Because trust me, I've got so many twists planned that if you actually see them coming, I'll know you're hiding in my closet. I'll shut up now. Enjoy!**

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I keep replaying all of the words sent and received in the emails I'd gotten from my chat room buddy, whose gender and furthermore, status as either Romeo or…Juliet number two, I guess, was still unbeknownst to me. The drive over to the Apple Rose Grille to meet Emily and her little French class friend seemed to be one where my head was everywhere it shouldn't have been. It's a good thing I got there when I did, otherwise I could have easily expected to see myself wrapped around a telephone pole or a part of one of those multiple car pileups.

I keep rapping my fingers slowly and rhythmically on the table as I wait for Emily and her friend to come so we can get this tutoring show on the road. It's a Thursday, and Thursdays are always the worst day of the week after Monday. The anticipation of Friday almost being here but not quite yet eats me alive. I'm always eager to shut down the party early on Thursday nights to just get the wait over with but not tonight. Tonight I get to play Professor Hastings.

The bell above the entrance to the restaurant starts jingling, and I look up to see Emily's gratefully smiling face walking towards me. I straighten my shoulders and perk up a little, waving in her direction. She slides into the opposite side of the booth gracefully, diving into her bag and pulling out a French book. "Thank you so much for meeting me," she says.

"No problem," I reply, clasping my hands together and resting them on the table. I realize that it's just Emily, and my eyebrows furrow in confusion. "Didn't you say you were bringing along a friend for this little festivity?" Emily stares back at me blankly and then something clicks in her head.

"Oh! Right! Yeah, he'll be here in a few. He's just caught up with something at home, but don't worry. He wouldn't keep us waiting that long," she says, laying her phone down on the table next to her French book. I nod slowly, before gesturing towards her French book.

"Alright, so what is it that you're having a problem with in French?" I ask; Emily already flipping rapidly through the pages of the book to show me something.

"Conjugating verbs; they make absolutely no sense to me and I feel like I'm trying to translate a bunch of scrambled letters into actual words. I'm sinking Spence; I feel like I'm the Titanic!" she sighs, clearly exasperated as she puts her head in between both of her hands. I can't help but to let out a small chuckle; Emily's frustration is somewhat comical.

"There's four categories of conjugation," I explain. "You've got indicative, conditional, subjunctive, and imperative. There are sixteen tenses in those four categories." I stare at her, although her face is vacant and clueless. Apparently in her world, this is like talking in tongues. I laugh a little. "You might want to write this down, you know."

"Right," she agrees, grabbing a notebook and pen from her evidently bottomless handbag. She begins to jot down what I've told her, and the waiter arrives with my coffee and the water Emily told me to order for her when she called to let me know she was on her way.

I blow on my coffee before taking a sip of it. No matter what the other girls say, I think black coffee is better than whatever it is they choose to drink. Black coffee keeps you going more than some sugary concoction that tastes like a liquid doughnut. As I set it back down on the table, the bell above the door makes another little chiming noise, indicating its opening. I look up to see who it is, and immediately I can feel the coffee scorching my throat desert dry.

_Toby_.

"What the hell?" I whisper under my breath as he slowly turns and begins to make his way over to the same side of the room Em and I are on. I swear, if he's doing something that he knows will get a rile out of me, Emily will finally see that Toby is not Saint Cavanaugh. He's just as malicious as I can be when it comes to our '_petty disagreement_'. For some odd reason, I feel like Emily only sees me doing all the vicious things and Toby having angel wings and a halo above his head. I guess all that light is blinding her from the fact that devil horns are holding that fake halo up.

He turns in the direction of our booth, and I'm actually wanting for him to do something bitchy, so I can prove to Emily that I wasn't making up the time when he almost ran me over, when he ordered all of these pointless products under my name and I had to pay near three-hundred dollars for them even though I didn't want them, and all the times in between. Emily still thinks I'm the one who ordered fifteen boxes of potpourri. She's delusional if she thinks I'd order potpourri in the _first_ place!

Toby walks up, a smile on his face when he sees Emily. "Hey Em!" However, that smile disappears about as quickly as it appeared once his eyes land on me. "What the hell are you doing here?" he says venomously, his eyes icy daggers. I look him up and down judgingly, a snarl forming across my lips.

"I was asking myself the same thing."

"No seriously, Emily," he says, turning to face a now sinking slowly underneath the table Emily. "Why did you invite her?" I can tell that he was just as in the dark as I was about the whole truth to the situation.

"She's in AP French?" Emily squeaks, trying to hide her face with the French book. Toby's face softens and I'm a little shocked by that. Toby's face does not _soften_ when he's around me. If anything, he just squares his jaw and gets ready to lash back at whatever insult I shoot his way. He's about to slip into the booth, when I lock eyes with Emily.

"Outside," I mutter through gritted teeth, sliding out of the booth. Emily slowly follows, but has a white-knuckle grip on the French book. I suppose she's bringing it with her for either two reasons. One, she wants to ask me a question about French away from the devil himself, or two, she's bringing it to defend herself in case I pounce. _Smart girl_.

Once we're outside, I immediately round on her. "What were you thinking?" I hiss venomously, shooting her daggers. "I thought this was just going to be us!"

"I told you I was bringing a friend."

"He's not a friend though! And besides, haven't you ever heard the saying that three's a crowd? Well tonight, three is most definitely a crowd!" I hiss impatiently.

"Spencer—"

I don't let her finish, as my arms flailing about in many different directions before pointing straight at where Toby's sitting alone in the booth. "No, Em! You know that I can't stand him and that he can't stand me! Do you _want_ the Grille to catch on fire?"

Emily lets out a low sigh. "Spencer, he needs help in French too. You're the smartest person in Rosewood; can't you just put aside your differences for one night? For me?" she pleads. Okay, so maybe my next great investment should be for Emily's hearing aids. I stare at her wide eyed.

"Have you lost your mind? You could give me all the money in the world and I wouldn't sit there and associate with him. I'm telling you Emily, he hates me. You don't see it because he knows better than to show that in front of you, but it _is_ there. When will you understand that?"

"Spencer! He does not hate you!" Emily snaps, glaring at me. "He always tells me how he does nothing but try with you, or at least, he wants to. But you don't even give him the time of day to test run that! He wants to be your friend Spencer, so can you bury whatever hatchet you see to seem to be clinging on to for dear life? Just let it go." Emily turns to walk back inside to accompany Toby, but I don't let her get that far. Instead, I grab her arm and whirl her back around so she's facing me.

"Did you not just see that in there?"

Emily nods. "Yes, I did. But the only reason he's so cold about it is because you are. If you lightened up a little, maybe you'd see that he's trying," she says coolly, before yanking her arm out of my grasp and storming back inside. I let out a long sigh, resting my back against the foundation of the establishment. Emily is being deluded into a sense of false hope. Toby Cavanaugh, the boy who I've hated since the sixth grade, wants things to just be over? It seems too easy. It can't just be that easy.

Emily is my friend though. She means more to me than stupid old Toby Cavanaugh, and I guess as a part of the unwritten best-friend code, your best friend's happiness comes first. So if that means playing nice with Toby, even if it is just an act around Emily, and it makes her happy, then I figure I could take a very excruciating, painful one for the team. I am, however, not in any way saying that this is a ceasefire, or even worse, waving the retched white flag. I'm just…lulling them into a fake sense of wellbeing and calm waters.

I take a couple of extremely deep breaths, before turning on my heel and slowly walking back into the restaurant. It takes a second, but I think of cute bunnies and the elation that awaits me after this one hellish tutoring session in order to splash a fake smile on my face. It's a little too fake, probably, but at least Emily will see the effort I'm putting forth when it comes to pretending Toby's a harmless little kitten.

Then, of course, the nagging, little devil on my shoulder begins prodding and poking me with his little trident. _Toby might be a little kitten, but that doesn't mean he doesn't already have his claws. Kittens have claws! And rabies, and sharp teeth, and many other varieties of dangers bestowed in them! Damnit! _"Get it together Spence," I mumble, already clenching my teeth to the point where they feel like they might disintegrate in a second.

I round the corner, swiftly making my way into my side of the booth. Toby and Emily both have their eyes dead on me; Toby's face a little shocked, but Emily's glowing. "Alright," I sigh. "So where were we?"

"Conjugating verbs," Emily says, a little proudly. Toby looks over at her, and shrugs. It seems as though he's just going along for the ride. I still haven't heard a peep out of him since Emily piped up earlier, which seems a little safe. _Too_ safe. So of course, being the person that I am, I decide to push his buttons a little.

"What; is that not what you're struggling with?" I ask, grabbing my mug of coffee and taking a long sip. Damn, all that time outside with Emily has let it get cold. I keep my eyes on Toby, watching him closely. He does another one of those one shouldered shrugs, and normally I'd assume he was indifferent as to what we did. However, his jaw's set, and I can tell he's biting back something.

I know I promised Em I'd behave, but I can't help myself.

I set the coffee back down on the table, before leaning back and folding my arms over my chest. "If it's not, you can say so. I'm sure Emily wouldn't mind you speaking up about how you really feel, right Em?" I say, quickly shifting my eyes over to Emily who seems a little stunned. There's something unreadable about Toby; I can't tell if I'm getting under his skin, if he really is putting a good foot forward, or if he just deserves an Oscar. Emily just tilts her head to the side. Guess she didn't get my telepathic memo that this wasn't really about French.

"I don't have a problem with it, though. The way I see it, you're doing me a favor either way, so I might as well just sit back and watch the show," he speaks for the first time since walking up and gladly noticing my presence. The way he says it though, I swear that I can hear that malicious undertone to it. It's there; it's just not…there enough for Emily to pick up. I take another deep breath to keep from lunging across the table and ripping out his vocal cords, but I figure if he wants to play this game, might as well show him whose game he's playing.

"But you're the guest," I insist, holding my arms out in the direction of Emily's French book as a broadcast. "So we'll go from wherever you want to."

"I told you, it doesn't matter to me. We're still going to get the same thing anyways," he says, and it's there in his eyes. He doesn't mean speaking French either; he means something else. The same something I'm talking about. Of course, Emily's staring at the two of us with stars in her eyes, so she doesn't see it. I wonder if she's hearing little wedding bells in her mind. I have to swallow down the gag that I know was coming, and blink rapidly. At least Hanna isn't present; she'd be all over Toby telling him how I obviously want that hot angry sex.

"Then conjugating verbs it is," I say stiffly, forcing a smile back on my face.

Toby smiles back, but this time he's not bathing in Windex. He's hiding behind a concrete wall.

* * *

**Well well well…looks like they're playing dirty. So let me know what you think! It'll be a bit before my next update; school starts back up tomorrow (sob) but I only have eight more hellacious weeks of it before I'm free, free as a bird. I will, however, always make it up to you, and promise a good chapter next time I update. Do you think Emily was serious about Toby wanting to call it quits with the whole hating Spencer thing, or do you think he's doing the same thing as our beloved heroine and just playing nice for Em's sake? Is Hanna ever going to get the satisfaction of saying she was right in Spencer and Toby having angry sex? The only way you'll find out is if you leave me a lovely review. xo**


	4. Spencer Hastings Doesn't 'Accept Defeat'

**A/N: Ahh, I'm so sorry it's taken me awhile to update! I got really tied up with school stuff last weekend and I was going to update yesterday but I had to go to a hospital since one of my mom's best friend's daughters gave birth three months early. BUT, I'm here, and since I'm late I'll even give you a little chat session. ;) Thank you for being patient with me! If I have time tomorrow, I'll do my best to try and add another chapter. You guys are the best. So here's chapter four!**

* * *

The next day, walking into school, I'm thanking the good lord that it's finally Friday. Last night's tutoring session with Emily and the devil—I mean, Toby, was awkward beyond all belief after mine and Toby's little unbeknownst fight to Emily. She still thinks that he wants to be all calm and civilized and happy go lucky about the two of us being friends. But I know that I know that there was a double meaning to every word that came out of his mouth last night. Emily's just dense.

Hanna skips up to me, although I can see her a mile away with her freshly painted, shocking green nail polish. "You like?" she asks, flaunting her hands in front of me. "It's called Loco-Crazy Lime, but a more appropriate name should be something like '_Slice of Lime and A Grain of Salt'_, because who doesn't love a good tequila-referenced nail polish title?" I can't help but to laugh a little to myself as we make our way up the stairs of the front entrance.

"So where were you last night? I called you at least seventy times but all I got was your annoying ass voicemail that you've had since sixth grade," she continues, trying to keep up with my pace in her extremely painful to look at five inch heels. I don't know how she can clomp around in those all day and not break something. I look over at her, my face in a grim line.

"Okay, for the record, I've changed my voicemail three times since then, so your argument is invalid," I counter. Hanna rolls her eyes, groaning.

"That doesn't change the fact that you never picked up the phone last night! I was going through a serious crisis!" Hanna whines. I stop dead in the middle of the hallway, turning around to face her.

"I was tutoring last night. Emily needed some help in French and so her and Toby met me at the Grille and I helped them out. I'm sorry for not being there during your…_crisis_, but I was trying not to rip my own head off last night," I explain, before turning to walk on in the direction of my locker. Hanna doesn't let that happen, and grabs my arm.

"Did you just say you were with Toby?" she asks giddily, and I know exactly where this is going. I'm going to hear another great lecture about how Toby and I should just shove each other's tongues down the other's throat and have some really amazing, hot-and-angry sex, which has seemed to be Hanna's favorite point of conversation these days.

"You misheard me. I said I was with Emily, and she brought Toby along for a tutoring session."

"But you were with Toby!" Hanna squeals. "Oh god, how did it go? Did you two talk to each other? Get in a fight? Did you both tell Em you had to go to the bathroom, and then hooked up in a stall? How was it?" she whispers the last part, and in turn I elbow her in the arm as hard as I can.

"This is why I only tell Aria these things," I mumble under my breath as I reach my locker, turning the combination like I've been doing it since I was in preschool. Hanna's eyes go around in another circle, a huff escaping her lips.

"I'm sorry Spence; you know how we all feel about this fight. We just want you to be happy."

"With Toby?" I ask, whipping my hair around to give Hanna a look. She slouches back, knowing she's reached testy waters.

"Not exactly with him, but you can't deny that he'd be a good match for you. I mean, when was the last time you dated someone? Junior year with Wren? And if I remember correctly, Wren was nothing but a British scumbag," Hanna protests.

"Just because it didn't work out with Wren doesn't mean that it's going to work with Toby. Last night didn't change my feelings towards Toby, okay? Don't be such an Emily. I still can't stand Toby, and he still can't stand me. The whole him wanting to end things is a bunch of bullshit. There will not be a Spencer and Toby, a…_Spencer and Toby_—"

"You mean like a Spoby?" Hanna interjects, her eyebrows raising as her quizzical expression throws me off guard.

"A what?"

"Spoby! You know, Spencer plus Toby…it's one of those cute couple names that they give celebrity couples!" I shake my head at Hanna's making-up words.

"Whatever. This…Spoby thing won't happen, Han. I'm sorry, but we're enemies. That's all we'll ever be; end of discussion."

Hanna opens her mouth, but the bell rings and cuts her off. "See you at lunch?" I try, and a small smile spreads across her lips as she nods. The two of us wordlessly walk away from each other to our first class, and I try to eradicate the idea of me and Toby actually being a couple from my mind.

**. . .**

My classes drag on, and I find myself in study hall once more. I pull my laptop out, ready to work on yet another paper that I don't want to have to do over the weekend. My email notifications are going off softly, and I click on the icon to see what's residing in the inbox. There are at least 5 new emails, three of them just emails from stores I shop at. One's from Hanna, sent about fifteen minutes ago, who's probably got a question about math. The other one however is from last night, and I've yet to reply to it. I smile to myself because I know exactly who the sender is.

**SUBJECT:**_** re: re: re: re: Shopaholic_Grll1105?**_

_Someone's figured out the ways of talking a chat room stranger, I see. ;) Well, as much as Shakespeare screams romance, I guess you could say I'm Romeo. But I'd rather you call me something that doesn't make you think of Leonardo Dicaprio because believe me, I'm no Leo. You could always call me Darcy, and you could be my Elizabeth. Or we could take a completely more normal teenage route and I could be Edward and you Bella, but you don't seem like a Twilight kind of girl._

I chuckle to myself. Clearly, this guy knows what's up. I go to type a response, but I'm cut off by the signs of a flashing little green light in the corner. Right. IM comes with email, I almost forgot. Whoever my mystery guy is, they're on and they're typing away to me. Almost instantly, his message is displayed.

_**Hello there my fictional-character-to-be-determined-chat-buddy. ;)**_

I smile, my fingers arched over the keyboard as I type out my response.

_Why hello, mystery man chat buddy. Still haven't decided on a name for me?_

_**No, I surely haven't. Ladies choice, of course.**_

_Well the fact that you knew Pride & Prejudice was a seller for me. But the fact someone's read Romeo and Juliet more times than I have is impressive, so I don't know. _

_**Since you're so easily conflicted by which character you'd like to go by, just give me your middle name. I'll call you that.**_

_Jill. What are you?_

_**I'm James, nice to meet you Jill. Answer me this; are you in Rosewood as we speak?**_

_Try study hall in the middle of Rosewood. I'm about to kill someone out of boredom. It's not like study hall's a big party or anything; it's usually me working on a paper while the other immature human beings I have to share this class with do whatever the hell first comes to their almost nonexistent brains._

_**Sounds like someone's not a fan of study hall; then again, I can't name a person who is. So if you're in study hall at the moment, then that must mean you're a senior.**_

_If you're replying back, you're either a senior also or a true badass. Which would it be?_

_**Just leave that up to your imagination, dear. And speaking of study hall, it's about to end. Maybe I'll see you around, Jill.**_

_We'll see, James. See you._

Almost with the most impeccable timing, the bell rings right as I sign off. I guess James was right. I close my laptop, stuffing it into my bag as I make a beeline for the door. Hanna's leaned up against the lockers, waiting for me just like I know she would be. Hanna and study hall aren't the best of friends, and she spends most of her time in the bathroom doing her makeup.

"Hey, did you read my email?" she asks, linking elbows with me as we make our way outside to our usual table. I furrow my eyebrows together, looking over at her.

"No, I figured it was something about math so I thought it could wait. Why?" Hanna's mouth drops open and she stops dead in the hallway. "What? Hanna, breathe!" I begin snapping and waving my hands in front of her face as she stares straight at me.

"Spencer!" she screeches.

"Hanna!" I mimic her, completely confused as to why she's getting all worked up over this.

Hanna lets out a long sigh. "Spencer, that email was what I had to tell you last night, aka crucial information! Look, Caleb's mom is in town and she wants to have dinner with him and a bunch of his friends!"

"So? That's awesome! What does it have to do with me?"

"Aren't you and Caleb friends or am I blind? I need you to come with me! Emily's already bailed because she has to work or something stupid like that, and Aria's still trying to convince Ezra to come! The way it's looking, it's just going to be me and Caleb and his mother, and it cannot just be us three, you understand? It just can't!"

I sigh. "Han—"

"Please Spencer? Please please please? I swear, I will never bring up Spoby or sex with Toby for a full three months if you say you'll go with me. Anything to make it a little less awkward, and besides, Caleb's really counting on me to round up the troops." She then proceeds to stick her lower lip out and bat her eyes, trying to get her annoying puppy-dog face to work on me. I sigh compliantly, just to get her to wipe that ridiculous look off of her face.

"Fine, I'll go with you."

"Yay!" she squeals, wrapping her arms around me. "It's a restaurant in Philly, but you're more than welcome to ride with me and Caleb. Anything for my hero best friend."

"Yeah yeah," I say, laughing as the two of us continue walking forwards to our table outside. "What else do I need to know about this dinner?"

Hanna sits down on the bench beside of mine, clasping her hands together as she thinks things through. I sit down, brushing my hair out of my face. "Um, well, I told you Aria's trying to get Fitzy to come, so you might want to find yourself a date unless you want to be Caleb's mom's date."

Aria skips up, Emily in tow with a cheerful smile on her face. "Han, I just got off the phone with Ezra. He says that he'll be able to come." She then looks in my direction. "Are you going to be coming with?" she asks. I give her a thumbs up as she and Emily take their seats.

"Awesome! Thank god." Hanna lets out a sigh of relief. "We're trying to figure out who Spencer could take as a date, but things are proving harder than possible. I don't know who Caleb is and isn't friends with aside from you guys," she ponders.

Emily snaps. "Isn't he friends with Toby?" Those are the last five words I wanted to come out of her mouth, because I think I'd rather die than have Toby as my date. I bite down on my tongue hard, chanting silently to myself. _Please say no Han, please say no, please; for the love of God just say no…._

Hanna's face brightens. "Oh my god! I totally spaced on that one!" She turns to face me, a serious look on her face. "Look, Spence, I know that you probably don't want to, but Toby won't have a date since Em's not going. Would you mind just at least saying that he was your date?"

Aria looks over at Hanna, then me, nodding. "Yeah Spence, I'll even sit between you two and everything." Aria's offer is very tempting, but I can see the look on Emily's face. She still thinks that I'm going along with this whole _'try to bury the hatchet'_ thing with Toby. And hell will freeze over before I accept defeat to Toby Cavanaugh. I swallow the last little bit of sanity that I have and force a smile on my face.

"No guys, it's okay. That's fine. I'll just…uh, I'll just ask him after school. It'll be fun." Emily looks thrilled by my saying that, and I internally smirk. _Take that Toby._

Hanna shrugs. "Alright, then it's settled! You can just ride with Toby then! Ugh, you guys are lifesavers," she says. I don't hear the rest of whatever it is she says, because I'm too busy forming a game plan in my head. Emily thinks things are going to be better with us now? Shit; little naïve Em is going to be in for a big shock when innocent Toby isn't all he's made out to be in her mind.

I'm going to have to go home and charge my phone so I can record my moment of victory later.

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**Well, if the tutoring session wasn't bad enough for poor Spence, now she's got to spend a night calling him her date. What do you think is going to happen; without Emily there, is Toby going to show off his true colors or is he really what he says? Be sure to keep your reviews coming or Hanna will sneak into your house overnight and change all the titles on your nail polish to something alcohol related. xo**


	5. Spencer Loses Her Motorcycle Virginity

**A/N: Well well well, I'm back! So, as always, thank you for your ever-so-sweet reviews; they mean the absolute world to me and I love seeing your enthusiasm over what's happening in the story. I'm just going to cut to the chase with this chapter, because there are Spoby scenes for once, thank God! I'm dividing the dinner into two chapters so I can fit in everything, however. Grab a pillow and cross your fingers, kids! Enjoy. :)**

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As a part of my _'Completely Fool Emily Into Believing I'm Attempting to Be Friends With Toby'_ plan, I have given myself the task of telling Toby that he's going to be my date tonight. I can think of about three hundred other things I'd rather do; watching grass grow and selling my soul to the devil are among the rankings. But if I want everyone to buy this act, I have to sell it in the best way possible. So, after a severe pep talk in the mirror of the girl's bathroom, I take a deep breath and march straight out of school and up to Toby's infamous motorcycle, which terrifies me.

He's fiddling with something on it, and I temporarily wonder if he's planning on sending it barreling in my direction, but my mind stops me and tells me that I'm just over-exaggerating things. "Toby!" I call out, and his head snaps up. He sees me, and for a second his face is completely unreadable. I'm not sure what he's thinking; at this point, it could be anything from '_oh hey look, here comes my future bride!_' to '_something wicked this way comes!_' Finally, he cracks a small, barely noticeable smile.

"Spencer," he acknowledges in a strained tone. I flash him what has to be the world's shortest-held smile.

"Listen, I'm going to make this short and sweet and as painless as possible. Caleb's mom is in town and is treating a bunch of his friends to dinner. Bada bing, bada boom, you're my date for the evening." I proclaim, and am greeted with Toby's completely blank expression. A long sigh escapes my lips as I back up. "Everyone going has a date, and you and I are the only ones who don't have dates…" It comes out in a sing-song voice as it registers in Toby's brain.

"So we're automatic dates?" he replies, raising an eyebrow. I nod, giving him a thumbs up as response. He runs his fingers through his hair, shrugging. "Sounds fine to me. Where's it at?"

Dammit, Hanna. My shoulders slouch forward. "Some restaurant in Philly. Hanna failed to mention the name of it," I explain halfheartedly. Classic Hanna Marin; eagerly insist that I come along and ask Toby to be my date but not tell me anything about where it is we're going.

Toby gives another one-shoulder shrug, which makes me wonder if he's having some kind of muscle spasm. "It'll be alright," he states. "We can just follow Hanna. What time do I need to pick you up at?" he asks. I stare at him dumbfounded for a moment, shocked by his generosity. I thought he would have made me walk or something. I quickly change my expression, holding up seven fingers and smiling a little.

"Bye uh, Toby," I say, hurriedly walking off to my car and clambering in. Once I've slammed the door shut, I roll my eyes and hit the steering wheel rather forcefully. Toby's definitely working overtime on his little agenda. I guess that means I'm going to have to pull a Hastings face and make sure I'm the victorious one.

I pull out my phone, opening up a new text message and attaching the other three girls' numbers to the recipient list. _**Toby said yes, so don't try to hook me up with any of your weird friends for the evening. Hanna, BTW, we're going to ride your ass the whole way there for not telling me the name of the restaurant. Hope your Altima likes it from behind. ;) **_I press send, then put my keys in the ignition and drive all the way home with my radio blaring.

**. . .**

I stare at my reflection in the mirror, trying to fix my hair's position around my face so it looks normal. After a fashion emergency call to the fashion policewoman herself, Aria helped me figure out what to wear. Over the phone, she helped me settle on something I probably never could have on my own without ripping my hair out first; a white tank top, a pair of black skinny jeans and a pair of boots that turned up out of nowhere. Aria advised me to curl my hair, and not wanting to disappoint the guru, I did as she wished.

Toby would be here any time soon, and after threatening Hanna that we would never show up, Hanna would pull up, announce her arrival, and then lead the way to the restaurant. She's already sent me at least seven worried rambles about how she doesn't want to sit next to Caleb's mother in the rare case the woman doesn't like her new perfume and other ridiculous thought processes. I guess I look presentable enough. I'm just there to make Aria's asinine outfit choice look even more otherworldly, and to make sure that Caleb's mother knows at least one of his friends has all their ducks in a row.

There's a faint ding from my computer, resting peacefully inside my bag which had been thrown sloppily into my red loveseat. I scramble over to it, pulling it out and opening it to see who's decided to email me. Just to my luck, it's James. According to the time, it was sent sometime right after school. I crack a smile, opening the email and silently reading it.

**SUBJECT: **_**Looking in high and low places for you…**_

_So I spent most of the rest of my day looking for anyone who looked like they could possibly be you, but I had no such luck. It looks like finding out who you really are is going to be more of a challenge than I thought. On the bright side, there aren't that many seniors in Rosewood. I'm going to find out who you are, that's a promise. However, I wouldn't complain any if you dropped me a few hints along the way. ;D_

I shake my head, laughing to myself. It was kind of sweet and yet alarming that this James character was looking for me. I hadn't even thought about trying to find out who he could possibly be; I spent periods five through eight worrying myself to death about the Toby situation. The idea that he however had been looking for me was a little surprising. It was sweet in the way that he cared enough to want to find me, but it was a little scary that he'd only just met me and now wanted to find me. What if he was one of those obsessive stalkers you hear about on Dr. Phil and Oprah?

**SUBJECT: **_**re: Looking in high and low places for you…**_

_Well that's too bad; you might not have that much luck if this is going to prove to be a challenge to you. You're right though—there aren't as many seniors in Rosewood. Also, you sort of gave away the fact you were a senior as well, so thanks for that little hint! And oh please; hints are for losers. You'll have to do this all on your own. Good luck! ;)_

Right as I close my computer, I hear the doorbell ring downstairs. It looks like Toby's taking this as his opportunity for a great entrance. It's either that, or Hanna's going to be walking down the road. I take the stairs two at a time before swiftly opening up the door. I'm not surprised to see Toby, but I _am_ surprised to see him looking so…different. It's not every day that I see Toby Cavanaugh on my doorstep to pick me up while managing to not look so murderable.

Toby looks me up and down, a hint of a genuine smile on his face. "Hey Spencer," he says softly. "You look great." I'm having a hard time actually believing my ears; Toby Cavanaugh just gave me a genuine compliment that didn't follow with '_Ha! Psyche!_' after. In order to follow up to that, I return the smile.

"Thanks; so do you." I don't have time to say much else, because the next thing I know, Hanna is in my driveway and literally playing drums with the horn. I jump at least ten feet in the air, not expecting Hanna to hold down the horn for thirty seconds then start excessively beating on it. She doesn't look too thrilled. I scowl in her direction, shooting her a look that says '_if you don't chill, I'm going to dive through your windshield and maybe bang your head against the horn'_. "Well," I say, crossing my arms. "Looks like we better head out before Hanna's hand falls off."

Toby laughs—_laughs!_—at my comment before leading the way to our means of transportation. I'm stunned to see not a car or a truck, but instead, his motorcycle. Immediately, I take two steps back and eye him. Yep, the compliment was fake, because this is the psyche moment. He returns the look but confused. "What? Never rode before?" he says, almost teasing me. I can see the boyish gleam in his eyes.

"I am not getting on that—"

"Oh c'mon Spence. It's not that bad," Toby croons seductively. "All you have to do is hold onto me; I do everything else. I don't bite, you know." I figure this would be a bad time to point out the fact that I still have marks where he bit me in the sixth grade fight we both participated in, so I keep my mouth shut.

"What if I somehow make the bike tip over with both of us on it? Or cause you to completely run off the road? Or worse, what if I cause you to turn into the wrong lane of traffic?" I begin worrying outside of my head and out loud, staring at the machine of death that Toby's leaning up against.

"Then," he says, in that melodic convincing tone. "I will push you out of the way so the bike doesn't land on you. If we run off the road, I'll forewarn you so you hang on tight as I get us back on the road. And Spencer, it's a motorcycle, not a Hummer. It's not like it'd be complicated to weave in and out of traffic."

I know that all Toby's doing is trying to assure me that we won't die, but it's not working for me. Apparently, the holdup I'm causing isn't working for one particular blonde. "Spencer!" Hanna screeches; I whirl around to see Hanna hanging out of her window. "Just get on the damn bike and shut your mouth, we're going to be LATE!"

I look back over at Toby, who's got a reassuring smile on his face. "I promise you, I won't let anything happen to you." With that, he presents his offering—a motorcycle helmet. I sigh. I think I'd rather deal with the machine of death than a pissed off Hanna Marin. I take it, defeated, and fumble around with it for a minute before finally getting it on my head. Great. Now my hair's going to be messed up, and Aria's never going to let me hear the end of it. When it happens, I'm blaming Hanna and her lack of patience.

I stand in front of the bike, confused as what to do next. Toby swings his leg over the side and mounts the bike, his hands already on the handlebars. He can see my confused expression, and begins gently instructing me. "Okay, now, you're going to hop onto the back…" he starts. I get a little closer, before freezing up. _Man up, Spencer. You're a Hastings. You have family members and best friends scarier than this motorcycle._ Taking a deep breath, I place my hands on Toby's shoulders to steady myself and pull myself onto the bike. It isn't too hard to figure out where my feet go, and I'm finally settled on the bike. My nerves, however, are far from settled.

"Alright," Toby instructs. "If you're scared, you can just wrap your arms around my waist. Lean when I lean, okay? Other than that, you're going to be fine, Spencer." He turns his head slightly so he can see me, and I give him a salute. Toby then turns back around, and the next thing I know the bike is roaring, coming to life. Hanna seems to be overjoyed with our progress, and out of the corner of my eye, I can see her throwing her hands up in the air out of relief. She backs out of my driveway in under five seconds flat, and begins pulling out towards the end of the road. Toby follows her, and the next thing I know, my arms are tightly wound around Toby's middle. I can hear a faint chuckle over the roar of the motorcycle, but it could be my imagining things.

As we pull out of Rosewood and begin to make our way to Philly, I find myself loosening up a bit. My hands have been vise-like around Toby, and it's given me the discreet opportunity to feel just what's exactly up under that shirt of his. His stomach is rock-hard, and I can feel a few ridges along his chest and the first thing that comes to my mind is _six pack_. I'm starting to think this adrenaline rush is sending all the blood to my head, because I wouldn't ever in a sane state of mind care if Toby Cavanaugh had a six pack.

The sky is literally changing colors around us as we drive, and I feel almost like we're flying. Hanna's literally speeding down the road, and Toby's trying to keep up with her and not kill us at the same time. I close my eyes, tossing my head back and enjoying the feel of the wind on my face. Toby decides to give me a mini heart attack and literally rides on the line for a few seconds, which not only terrifies me but gives me a freeing feeling. I've never had such an adrenaline high before.

When we make it to the restaurant, Toby pulls up in the spot behind Hanna and turns off the bike. I frown, not quite used to the feel of not moving anymore. He pulls his helmet off, so I decide to mirror the action. Toby jumps off, offering his hand out to me and helps me off the bike. "Did you have fun?" he asks as he takes my helmet from me.

"Well, other than the sheer moment of terror of you riding the line, I actually did," I say, smiling. He's got a mirror grin on his face.

Hanna takes that moment to climb out of her car, shaking her head. "Toby, you're an idiot. I'm surprised Spencer didn't pull out her calculus textbook and beat you in the head with it for riding the line." I mock laugh, staring Hanna down.

"She enjoyed it, didn't you?" Toby prods. I nod, smiling. Hanna gets this really goofy smile on her face, and I can literally steal the words right from her mouth.

"Oh I know you did Spence. Losing your motorcycle virginity was probably the highlight of your week," she says out loud. As she twirls by us to meet Caleb, who's standing on the far end of sidewalk and waiting for us, she whispers in my ear, "Keep it up, and the highlight of your month will be when you swipe the other V-card." She shoots me a wink as she pulls away, and I want nothing more than to murder her right here and now.

Toby holds out his arm, and to both of our surprise, I take it. We begin to walk down the sidewalk, listening to Hanna's rambles from behind. We can't help but to exchange glances and snicker behind her back, because her unreasonable fear over this dinner is quite hilarious. What's even funnier is the fact that I'm actually able to share a genuine laugh with someone who I hate—or rather, thought I hated.

I'd never say it to her face so she could have the satisfaction of saying _'I told you so'_, but maybe Emily was right.

* * *

**ALL THE SPOBY. Goodness, I love it! Well well well, so in this chapter we learned that James is on the lookout for Spencer at school, Hanna was born without an ounce of patience, and Spencer + Toby + motorcycles = happiness. So do you think Spencer's still just playing nice with Toby but really plotting her revenge or is she genuinely being friendly? What about Toby; is he for real, or does he have something else up his sleeve? Leave me a pretty little review, or I'll send Hanna to your house in the middle of the night and lay down on the horn until you **_**do**_** review. xo**


	6. Nothing to Do with Squirrels

**A/N: Well hello my lovely little angels! It's time for yet another chapter of this story. You guys are super amazing; I love reading all of your beautiful reviews and in turn they inspire me to keep on trucking with this story! I'm really sorry for not updating; I've been screwed over with all of these end of the year entities that are in store, aka exams, and I've only got about 13 more days until freedom! I've got so much more planned and I'm glad that you all are so interested in this. So, all I can say is that things are about to get crazy. Enjoy :)**

* * *

When we get into the foyer of the restaurant, Hanna's pacing anxiously the length of the entrance. Toby and I exchange looks, before merely shrugging. This isn't exactly new territory; Hanna has a bad history of working herself up beyond all belief if she's nervous over something. "I got this," I tell Toby, striding up to Hanna.

Hanna stops in front of me, her mouth twisting in some sort of frown that I've never seen on anyone's face before. "Oh god, Spence, that helmet has destroyed your hair, come here," she says, licking her fingers as she zones in, trying to fix my hair. I begin to bat her away. "Spencer!" Hanna shrieks persistently.

"Hanna!" I mimic her. "Will you just calm down? You're doing it again."

"Doing what?"

"Exactly," I say, crossing my arms over my chest. "Hanna, you're panicking for no reason. What happened to the fact that you're Hanna Marin? Caleb's mom is going to love you—let's be honest, if my mom can find it in her heart to love you, I think anyone could." That seems to settle her in some way, but it doesn't take long before she's back on high alert.

"Spencer, I—" Hanna doesn't have any more time to tell me whatever it is she needs to say, because Aria and Ezra stroll into the foyer with us. Hanna groans, putting a fake smile on her face as she sinks down onto a bench. I roll my eyes as Aria makes her way over, Ezra in tow, to assess the problem.

"What's going on?" Aria asks, looking back and forth between Hanna and I. I stare down at our crazy blonde friend, who's now buried her face in her hands, trying to fight the urge to roll my eyes.

"She's still freaking out about meeting his mom. I told her, she's just overreacting. Everything is going to be fine, but she won't listen long enough to comprehend that," I say, mostly addressing Hanna in that statement. She looks up at me, a scowl now decorating her face.

"Just because you're not freaking out doesn't mean the rest of us aren't," Hanna protests. I feel my eyes grow wider as my head whips around the small room to look at everyone else.

"They're not," I state. "Hanna, time to put your big girl panties on and man up. This isn't the end of the world, I promise; _she will love you_." Aria nods, adding emphasis to my last few words. I take a quick glance out of the window behind Hanna, before facing her again. "And you don't have much time either, because they're already here," I say.

That sends some sort of signal racing through Hanna's mind, and she immediately jumps up and straightens out her dress. Aria and I exchange a glance, smiling rather proudly. There was no doubt in my mind that Hanna would be alright once we either shook her a bit. I wasn't up for physically doing so, so I'm thanking my lucky stars that the verbal approach worked out alright. I leave Hanna's side, as she's already ready to jump on Caleb once he walks in the door, and stand by Toby.

"God, I'd hate to see Hanna at family reunions," Toby mutters quietly, only loud enough for the two of us to hear. I smirk, letting out a soft laugh.

"Don't bring it up; I want to make it through the night without having to escort Hanna off because of a panic attack. So far, so good, and it better get to great." Toby beams in my direction as my eyes settle on Hanna, who's already got Caleb on her arm and talking nail polish with his mother. "Who would've thought," I mumble under my breath.

Hanna leads the parade into the actual restaurant rather eagerly, and to my own surprise, Toby offers his hand to me as we begin to walk inside. I look ahead at the other couples walking in and figure it couldn't hurt anything. I extend my hand down in the direction of his, and he laces his fingers with mine. For something that should feel extremely weird, foreign, alien, and overall wrong, it feels comfortable and relaxed. There's even the split second when the thought of it feeling right flashes across my mind, but I quickly shrug it off. I think the motorcycle ride numbed me a little. Even if Toby doesn't have the hidden agenda to completely write me off, I'm not going to give him the chance to do so if he wanted. I have to keep a guard up while putting on my little act.

Multitasking, great. That should be an adventure within itself.

**. . .**

The dinner turns out to be far more of a success than anyone thought. By the time dessert arrives, Hanna is animatedly telling everyone at the table a story about when she tripped and fell down a hill over summer vacation and adding a few twists that I know for a fact didn't happen and is able to laugh at herself with the rest of us. Occasionally, she'll shoot Aria and I glances or the rare thumbs up to let us know that she's actually enjoying herself. Later, I know that we're going to hear all about how she had such a good time and that nothing could have ever gone wrong. She'll forget the minute detail of her panicking over virtually nothing though.

Toby and I are actually able to find tons of things that we can talk about and keep the conversation going, which I think came as a bit of a surprise to the both of us. I once heard that people who were alike never got along because they thought the same way and were more persistent, and therefore the dynamic usually created some kind of friction. That's probably the deal with Toby and I.

When we're all leaving, Hanna pulls me aside and I can tell that she's absolutely glowing. "Thanks Spence, for not letting me make a break for it. I actually had fun tonight, and I know you really didn't want to have to come with Toby—"

"No, no, it's fine," I insist, dismissing it with the wave of my hand. "Don't worry about it. I'm glad you actually managed to enjoy yourself." Hanna smiles, reaching over to give me a hug. I return it, before pulling away and turning. "I've got to get going; apparently, the bike waits for no one."

Hanna laughs. "You go then. I'll see you on Monday," she says, waving as I make my way back over to where Toby's parked our ride.

"You mind taking a little detour?" he asks as he hands me the other helmet. One of my eyebrows lifts up and he smiles. "There's this really great place downtown, they have the most amazing ice cream you've ever tasted in your entire life. I promise it won't disappoint, and if it does, then you can decide what you'd like to do to get even," Toby teases, throwing a leg over the bike and mounting it.

"I'm taking your word for that one, Cavanaugh," I snort, clambering onto the bike and wrapping my arms around Toby's waist. He doesn't say anything, but instead revs the bike before pulling out of the parking lot and whisking us off onto the road.

That familiar adrenaline rush and sensation of being on the bike that might mirror gliding on air comes back, and I throw my head back. The fear I had initially when getting on the motorcycle isn't even present anymore, and I feel a joyous shout escape my lips. Toby laughs from in front of me, mirroring my actions and yelling out as well.

We finally make it to the little ice cream parlor, which isn't that far from where we'd just left eating. Toby climbs off the bike first, and graciously helps me off of it. I take my helmet off, tossing my hair back behind me to at least somewhat fix it. Toby extends his hand out and I don't hesitate to take it this time. The two of us walk inside the little shop, a bell over the door jingling softly to acknowledge our presence.

The music playing overhead is some mainstream song that I'm pretty sure I've heard Hanna scream-singing once or twice, and the shop is fairly empty with the occasional family or young couple occupying the tables. Toby walks directly up to the register, seeing as how there's no line, and begins rattling off his order from memory. He then looks over at me, his eyes shining and an expectant smile on his face. "Oh, I'll just have vanilla—"

"Nonsense," Toby cuts me off. "She'll have the same as me." He then pulls out his wallet, paying for the ice cream before moving to the side where the woman is scooping some rainbow concoction into two cones. I glare at Toby.

"What the hell is that?"

"That, my dear Spencer, is what one would call birthday cake ice cream. You'll love it," he insists. My jaw drops, my eyes widening as I stare at him as though he's lost his mind. The woman hands him the two ice cream cones, and he turns around to hand one to me. "Why are you making that face?" Toby asks as he leads the way out of the shop.

"Are you kidding me?"

"No, Spence, I'm not," Toby says as he begins to walk down the sidewalk. I take it that we're going on a walk, so I follow behind him making the exact same face. "Come on, live a little. Be a little kid for what, once in your life?" I can tell that that was a crack, but I try to shrug it off because I'm too hung up over the fact he ordered me an ice cream cone that's twice the size of me.

"Whatever," I pout, before succumbing and taking a small lick of my ice cream. It's surprisingly good, and I continue licking away. Toby laughs as he sees me literally devouring my ice cream.

"Damn Spencer, slow down, or you're going to get—"

"Brain freeze," I groan, cutting him off as one of my hands flies up to my head to massage my temples. "Why must everything bad come from something so good?"

"Because there's a downside to everything," Toby says, rather darkly. My head snaps in his direction and my eyes study him. Toby hasn't made any sort of comment like that tonight, and even though I used to strongly believe he spent his time sacrificing and pulling the heads off of innocent squirrels, I can tell that there was so much more meaning with that one sentence. And a strong one; one that didn't have anything to do with squirrels for sure.

* * *

**Ew, this was such a filler chapter, but things will get better. Spencer's finally beginning to trust Toby (or so we think) and it looks like he just might be letting her in. What do you think is going to happen there? And what about James? Don't worry, he'll be back next chapter to definitely shake up Spencer's world, that's a promise. Be sure to review! It makes me want to update faster. It also means I'll give you a giant hug and extra large cone of birthday cake ice cream, if that pushes you any farther. xo**


	7. No Matter How It Looks, It's Still War

**A/N: I AM SO SO SO SO SO SO SO SORRY YOU GUYS! I haven't forgotten this story, I promise! I could never do that to you guys. I've been really busy however and a little uninspired, but it's all good and fine and dandy now because I'm back. (Well, I never really left, but you know…) Thank you for all of your sweet reviews; I always love to know what you guys are thinking! I'm at the beach again (yay!) so that means tons of new chapters. The faster you review, the faster I update. Just saying ;)**

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On Monday, I arrive at school and the second I get one foot out of my car, Emily practically jumps down my throat.

"Oh my god Spence, how was it? I mean, I talked to Hanna and she said that you guys were riding on his motorcycle and that you guys got along really well and that afterwards you two went off somewhere and oh my god tell me everything, Spencer Hastings!" she says, in a manner that was very unlike herself. I lean away just a bit, a little frightened by her sudden outburst. As Hanna would say, in her grumpy and irritated morning moods, _No one is that happy on a Monday morning._

"Sorry," Emily apologizes, a shy little smile creeping back onto her face. "I just wanted to know how it went."

"It went fine," I reply, throwing my bag over my shoulder and making my way towards the front entrance. "We went with the others to that dinner, and then we stopped and got ice cream. No big deal."

"No big deal?" Emily asks, clearly in shock by my statement. "Spencer, this is a huge deal! This is not only the first time that you two have been a room together and not lunged for each other's throats, but the first time that you actually admit that I was right about Toby!"

I give her a look; one that says, '_too far, Em'._ "Yeah, I never admitted to anything. I just said we had dinner and ice cream and rode on a motorcycle. Not once did I add you to the equation, Fields," I tell her, a smirk spread out on my face.

Emily nods, her lips forming into an 'O'. "Right, I forgot, Spencer Hastings and her pride are too high and mighty to admit she was wrong for once," she says, with a laugh. I can't help but to laugh with her as we continue on up the stairs and into the school.

"Did you ever find out anything about your little friend that you met in Hanna's chat room?" Emily asks as we round a corner, apparently heading in the direction of her locker. I shrug with one shoulder.

"Some, but not enough. He's actually a, well, _a he_, he calls me by my middle name and vice versa, and he's a senior at Rosewood. And has surprisingly good taste in books," I add. Emily just chuckles. "What's so funny?"

"Nothing. Just the fact that you're actually talking to that guy. I would have most definitely expected it out of Hanna, but not really you."

"What about Spencer?" a lower voice comes from in front of us, and both Emily and I turn our heads in sync to face whomever it is. Toby's leaning up against Emily's locker, a playful smile decorating his lips as he peels himself off of it and stepping forward to meet us. Emily's eyes light up like my nana's lawn decorations at Christmastime.

"What about her?" Emily fires back, good-humoredly.

"I have to make sure my two favorite girls aren't talking about each other," he replies. Emily turns around to look at me, raising an eyebrow, while my face goes blood-red. _Okay_, so maybe she wasn't lying about him wanting to be nice. Apparently our little night helping Hanna when she really didn't need us there sealed that deal. Toby is looking dead ahead at me, those cerulean eyes of his literally piercing through me as he shoves his hands in his pockets. _Right, he wants me to respond to that._

"Well, I highly doubt that Megan Fox is talking about me," I say, nodding slowly. "I didn't realize you two were so close." Emily rolls her eyes, but the three of us start laughing. Usually, I always figured if the phrases '_I was laughing'_ and_ 'Toby Cavanaugh'_ were in the same sentence, the word _at_ would fit nicely in between; never would I have thought I'd actually be able to laugh with him about something.

"Spencer was telling me about what you guys did on Friday," Emily prompts after she's had her laugh, trying to get Toby to talk since I clearly wouldn't.

Toby looks over at me quizzically, and I shrug. "We didn't really do much," he says, finally taking his gaze off of me and putting it instead on Emily. "Hung out with everybody, went to get ice cream after…it's not like we went skydiving or something extravagant, Em."

I rest a hand on Emily's shoulder, leaning forward. "Although next weekend, we plan on doing all kinds of dumb reckless things," I tease, winking playfully in Toby's direction. Emily raises an eyebrow, but it's clear that she finds mine and Toby's interaction pleasing.

"So you guys are getting together next weekend?" Emily asks, looking back and forth between the two of us.

"I guess so," Toby says as the bell cuts him off. "Come on Em, we better get to class." He then looks over at me, a genuine smile on his face. "See you later, Spence."

"Yeah, sure thing!" I say, smiling back at him. We all then turn in the respective directions of our classes and head off, and I can't seem to get Toby's smile out of my head. Damn it all.

**. . .**

By the time I get to study hall, I've somehow talked to Toby five times already today. It's sort of crazy, I think, that this time last week I was plotting his murder and making it seem like a complete accident and now the two of us are acting like we're best friends. Emily is absolutely eating this up; for her, this is an equivalent to her birthday and Christmas combined.

Emily _was_ right earlier. I'm much too proud to admit that she was right about Toby for two reasons. Reason number one – I don't like for others to get that _'Aha, I told you so'_ moment because it's degrading and a real downer on self-esteem and whatnot. Reason number two is that I still don't fully trust Toby. Not even Emily can expect for me to suddenly fall head first into Toby's loving arms in a session of trust falling. She knows that I've been at literal war with him since the sixth grade; I didn't just wake up on Saturday morning and decide that all is forgiven and we can hold hands around the campfire and sing Kumbaya in pure bliss.

Settling down in my usual seat in study hall, I pull out my laptop to finish working on a paper that's due in a few days. The second I open it, however, there's a faint dinging noise, signaling that I've got a new IM. There's only one person it can be, and my guess was more than correct when I open the small window.

_**Jill, to what do I owe the pleasure?**_

_Pleasure's mine, James._

I chuckle as I open up the window that my paper's in and begin typing away, waiting on James to respond back. It's become clear to me that he isn't going to fess up who he really and truly is, so in true Spencer Hastings fashion, I'm going to figure it all out myself. I get halfway through my paper before the small noise sounds, and I come to terms with the fact that this paper isn't going to get edited today, or at least, not in this class.

_**I take it you're partying it up with all of your study hall buddies. ;D**_

_Most definitely. And you?_

_**Now how in the world do you know if I'm in study hall or if I'm hiding my phone underneath a desk in Mrs. Montgomery's class?**_

_Because I just know these things, James. Accept your defeat and move on. :) And really? Mrs. Montgomery? She'd have to be dead before she let you get away with having your phone out in the middle of class. _

_**Well, since you obviously know more about me than I thought, then yes. I'm a senior. And we're obviously not in the same study hall; I'm the only one who's on a computer. Everyone else is either napping, drawing random doodles on their calculus homework, or trying their hardest to prove a point that they're the most immature in the room.**_

_Really? Are you sure we're not in the same room, because I'm pretty sure that the dynamic in here is the exact same. :D_

_**Pretty sure. I've already my theories as to what you look like, and you're not in here… :)**_

_Theories? Like…?_

_**I'm not telling you. It'll ruin all the fun.**_

_You're so nice, James, I think I just might cry._

_**Don't cry now, your pretty face will get all messed up.**_

_My pretty face?_

_**Sure.**_

_Whatever you say, James. Whatever. _

_**Bell's about to ring, princess. I'll keep an eye out for you ;)**_

_And I'll be keeping an eye out for people who seem as though they're looking for me ;)_

I don't really know how good at timing I am, but as soon as I close my laptop, the bell rings. I put it back in my bag and sling it over my shoulder, hurrying out of my study hall to escape all the circles of hell that reside in there.

Aria is waiting for me in the cafeteria, and I can see that she's slightly troubled. When she sees me, she seems to perk up a little, but not much. My eyebrows furrow as I approach her. "Hey, what's up?" I ask as I stop momentarily to grab a water before the two of us make our way to lunch.

"What isn't?" she retorts, looking up at me with an expression that says I probably already know what the issue is. She lets out a low sigh. "I'm pretty sure Friday night went well for everyone except me."

"Why?"

"Prom's coming up in two weeks and Ezra's practically already backed out of it. What am I supposed to do?" she wails, falling down into her seat at our usual table outside. I sit down next to her, rubbing her back as she buries her head in her hands.

"It's in two weeks, Aria. Things will change. And why are you so bent up over it? I'll probably be going by myself, you can just go with me." I take a sip of my water as I shrug knowingly. Aria rolls her eyes.

"Spencer, let's get real, you'll probably end up going with Toby." The water goes down the wrong way and I cough, spitting it back out. My eyes are watering surely as I continue to cough, struggling for air. I can see Emily and Toby approaching us, both of them having rather concerned looks plastered on their faces. Aria begins pounding me on the back, and finally my arms shoot out as though I'm about to fly.

"I'm good," I say in a strangled tone. "I'm good."

"Are you okay?" Aria asks. "God, if I would have known you were going to choke, I wouldn't have said it."

"Yeah you would have."

"Okay, you're right, but why are you acting like it's the end of the world? It's not like you two hate each other anymore," she points out. "You two have been alone together and you haven't gotten in a fight or died, so I mean, why isn't it possible? Who else is he going to take? Emily's gay, remember?"

"Like I could have forgotten," I fire back. "And Aria, wake up and smell the roses, he tried to kill me just two weeks ago with the whole running me over incident. It's not like he and I are suddenly the straw to each other's berry."

I shoot her a look as Toby and Emily finally reach us, saying '_if you bring this up, it's not going to look good for you, short stuff_'. "Are you okay, Spencer?" Emily asks. "We could hear you choking the minute we stepped outside.

"I'm fine," I reply. "Aria just brought up something that's…well, never going to happen and it shocked me, that's all."

"Really? What was it?" Toby pesters, and I have the sudden urge to tackle him. I try not to shoot him daggers as I look up at him.

"Oh nothing you need to worry about," I force what has to be the worst attempt of a fake smile onto my face. Emily shrugs, grabbing his arm and heading in the direction of the cafeteria, mumbling something about food.

As they walk by, Toby chuckles and leans down so only I can hear him. "I'll find out soon enough, princess."

* * *

**Okay, Toby and his ending lines are rather mysterious and in a way, slightly disturbing. And I'm writing it. I'm so sorry for not getting this up sooner, I've just had a lot of stuff on my mind and it's been hard to find time where I'm free and not exhausted. ALSO WHO SAW LAST NIGHT'S EPISODE?! EEEK. ALL THE SPOBY. Be sure to leave a review as to what you think! (Long reviews make me happy, just saying.) And if you don't, Toby will find you and say something rather cryptic that will send you on a mental wild goose chase. Promise. **


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